The man of her did catch the itch,
And so provoked was the wretch,
That she of him a bastard catch'd.
Ye bundle misses don't you blush,
You hang your heads and bid me hush.
If you wont tell me how you feel,
I'll ask your sparks, they best can tell.
But it is custom you will say,
And custom always bears the sway,
If I wont take my sparks to bed,
A laughing stock I shall be made;
A vulgar custom 'tis, I own,
Admir'd by many a slut and clown,
But 'tis a method of proceeding,
As much abhorr'd by those of breeding.
You're welcome to the lines I've penn'd,
For they were written by a friend,
Who'll think himself quite well rewarded,
If this vile practice is discarded.


The party in favor of bundling were able, too, to _keep a poet_, as is
shown by the following ballad, which we transcribe from a printed copy
preserved by the American Antiquarian Society.


A NEW SONG IN FAVOUR OF COURTING.

Adam at first was form'd of dust,
As scripture doth record;